The Basement Tango
by Vega's Ring
Summary: ...that on one lonely night you invited Mulder to your bed." Why does she keep him guessing? Why was she so upset? Set before Theef to after their green tea discussion in all things. Re-rated.
1. Chapter 1

Acknowledgments: Thank you to ElizabethAnnfanfic for giving me helpful comments to make the story more robust. I tend to take backstories for granted and not explain it explicitly. Some of them I will definitely write into a separate story one day.

Disclaimer: I don't have money.

Spoilers: Through First Person Shooter.

This story is set before Theef through all things. I got the idea from a line in Trust No 1. If Scully invited him to his bedroom and was surprised about doing it, then their first time together wasn't during all things. And in all things, it seemed as though Scully was struggling with her relationship with Mulder. So they couldn't have been together then. Here's how I think it went down when the cameras weren't rolling...

**The Basement Tango  
**

"We're adults. I'm sure we can get past this," she said. Mulder must have had his panic face on for her to say this. What curious choice of words to bring comfort.

He certainly didn't plan on coming to Scully's to get laid. His intentions were pure when he showed up at her place an hour earlier. From the quick messages he'd gotten in the afternoon, the case, or more appropriately the non-X-file, which he thought would bring hope, backfired. He wanted to make sure she was alright.

"Knock, knock. I come bearing gifts."

"Mulder, what are you doing here? Is that mine?"

"I can smell fungus on pizza from a mile. Here, I swiped it from the pizza guy. It's paid."

"Thank you," she said as she mechanically took a slice and had him plunk down the box on her table.

"I hope I'm not interrupting. Looks like you were having a party." He gestures to the half-empty bottle of Pino Noir.

"Yep, with the American Journal of Medicine. Help yourself."

He took a slice, found himself a glass of wine and plopped beside her. She didn't even look his way.

_This is not good_, he thought to himself. _A medical journal can't be that interesting_.

She was still pissed at him for having her do an autopsy on a woman who claimed to have been abducted by aliens three years ago and was allegedly left barren. The victim was found dead in her bed and miraculously pregnant. The MUFON guys brought this police case to his attention when the clerk at the morgue noticed her right away as a former member. He honestly believed that Scully would find hope that a barren alien abductee was with child.

"I thought you'd be at the office when I got back."

"Mulder, I left at 6. I had to do the autopsy at 7:30 this morning. I was hardly skipping out early."

"Didn't you have to write your report?"

She took a moment to size him up. "Are you spying on me? Have I slacked off?" She got up, handed him a folder and settled again on the couch. "Here."

He read it and felt even worse. So that's why it wasn't an X-file. It turned out that she had a tumor in her temporal lobe which caused her to have delusions, and her vertigo was not caused by a relapse but because she was 8 weeks pregnant. Based on the DC Police report, she had been exhibiting signs of depression after ending an intense five-month relationship. Scully believed that this, combined with the fear of going through the illness again and hormonal changes, had led her to take her own life… but not without going out with a bang.

_Oh my God_, he thought, unable to fathom how ironic the situation was and how much it must have pained Scully to deal with a pregnant DB. "You okay?"

She took a deep breath as if to consider the question and in grand Scully fashion declared, "I'm fine."

He was about to protest the obvious lie when she started going on a roll.

"You know, Clara Barks got it figured out. I mean, except the whole suicide thing of course." She glanced at Mulder as if waiting for him to debate this. But he sat there quietly, waiting for her to get whatever it was out of her chest.

"She was sucking the marrow out of life after her diagnosis. Maybe she had a point in not trying too hard to live according to what people expect of you. "

"What, you mean you never fantasized about your third grade teacher's life of sex, drugs and rock and roll?"

"I didn't find any other drug in her system except for MDMA. But I did find three distinct sperm donors. Three guys in 48 hours. How do you even find the time to be with three guys in a week?" She slump back on the couch. "I should get out more. Instead, here I am on a Friday night stuck with," she looks at the Journal, "_Evaluating Factors for Hyperglycemia. _I should be drunk and getting laid."

"Cheer up, Scully. You're half-way there," he picked up the bottle, shook it in her face and emptied the last drops into her glass. "If you're good, maybe we could do something about the latter part." He waggled his eyebrows mischievously.

Scully pursed her lips as if to consider the proposition and looked dangerously at him. Her cheeks had since become blushed and her pupils dilated from the alcohol. From where he was seated, inebriated Scully was looking very sexy...and feral.

"I do need to get my ya-yas out," she said with a flirtatious glint in her eye. Scully must be really drunk to even consider this.

"What, you mean shooting the crap out of Jade Blue Afterglow didn't do it for you?" He was trying desperately to keep this conversation light, just in case. He didn't want his hopes up.

"Well, she may have the body, but she ain't got the moves." Mulder chuckled at the memory then quickly got nervous when a very provocative imagine of Scully in leather flashed in his brain. "I could prove it to you," she whispered as she got up.

He gulped .

So that was how he got into this situation. Scully was waiting for a sign that he'd follow through with his 'reward'.

"How 'bout it, G-man?" Her breath tickled just beneath his ear. "We're adults. I'm sure we can get past this. We could have rules, like Elaine and Jerry."

She must really want it if she's projecting Seinfeld's version of friends with benefits. This was a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation. He never would have pegged sex with Scully as a one-night stand. He loved her. God he LOVED her. He wasn't sure he could do a Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am to Scully, do the naked pretzel with her and pretend it didn't happen. But then again, wasn't this the woman who asked him to father her child? Scratch that. Donate to the cause of impregnating Scully? He wasn't quite sure where he would have fit in if they had been successful with the procedure. He never asked. And so this balance of where he stood in Scully's life has to be played out just right. If he refused on the grounds that he cared too much to just 'fuck' her, he could scare her away forever.

There was, however, an ideal time in the not so distant past when he could have bared his soul and she would have fallen into his arms. He wasn't that hopelessly clueless. In fact, he had used this against her once or twice. But when the moment came to tell all, he cowered and let his fear of losing her as his work partner in search of the Truth over rule the possible joy of having her in his life. So he called the one woman who was safe, and the one she detested. Ever since then, his relationship with Scully changed. It was imperceptible to anyone from the outside. But he felt that while before there was always a restless undercurrent, this time around it was almost blasé.

"Are you coming?" Scully was seductively calling out from her bedroom, one hand on the door frame, the other on her hip. She had unbuttoned her blouse and her black bra was revealing luscious cleavage.

_Take whatever is offered and be happy with it_, he thought. That seemed to be the only alternative. He didn't have much time on his hands and he had lots on his to do list before he left this earth. So he got off the couch and strutted to join her in the bedroom.

****

I shall post the next chapter soon if you review. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

_Beware. Mature Content. _

Chapter 2

She takes his hand and leads him into her bedroom where she had managed to light the six scented candles on her night stand. The room felt ethereal. The whole situation felt unreal. It was as if Clara Barks's ghost had taken over her and given her courage to test run her emotional fortitude. Friends-with-benefits only works when there are no expectations, no messy feelings involved. On any other night, Scully might have paused to at least consider how it came to this, if not to halt it altogether knowing how much she had to drink. But this was not the night. Tonight was hers.

It was around the time of Mulder's bizarre brain activity when Scully found evidence that Mulder had indeed called and slept with Agent Fowley. Right before then, she thought things were finally going the way she hoped it would after six years of partnership, cancer, an aborted kiss, a rescue at the edge of the earth, and hips before hands, among others. But as always, it never happened. The universe was definitely conspiring against them, she had thought. When Diana sacrificed her life for Mulder's, she knew that was it. He was right about her when it counted. He was right to love her despite Scully's personal dislike for that woman. And she, as he said, was his friend. The one who kept him honest. She always was and always will be. In a moment of total clarity and acceptance, she knew her place in his life. It was okay to be his friend. .. just his friend. And she was finally fine with that.

When she kissed him on his bandaged forehead and allowed her thumbs to linger on his lips, it was to say goodbye to all her girlish hopes with this man.

So this night would be a testament to that new reality. They would 'make love without a future', as Gabriel Garcia Marquez so eloquently put it. Tonight, they would be friends who had nothing better to do than to satisfy a basic human need. Why shouldn't they be able to get past that?

Mulder's hand is cold to the touch, his face full of skepticism and wonder. Scully seats him at the edge of the bed and places herself between his thighs. As her fingers work down at his buttons, Mulder's breathing becomes ragged. He is unable to look at her.

"Shhh," she whispers under his chin. "Just close your eyes. I can be anyone you want."

In an instant their lips pounce, and they are a tangle of half-shed clothes. Their bodies banter in bed as their minds do - she, with the studied touch of a medical doctor, and he with his intuition into human nature. It is as generous and as thorough as only their partnership can be. And it is decidedly untainted by the insecurities of the heart and the doubts in their minds.

Scully is relishing in this newfound confidence, and Mulder is clearly enjoying it. She can sense how he tries to prolong this dance to see how many times he could make her come. But as all good things come to an end, this she intends to go out with a bang. Straddling Mulder's hips, Scully arches her back and reaches for his perineum.

"Oh god," Mulder grunts. "D!--na!"

***

_How'd you like it?_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

The sex was phenomenal. Mulder couldn't stop gushing about how great it was. "Wow. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow," he said in between heavy panting. The man with a virtual storage unit for his porn collection was impressed. Scully was very pleased with herself.

"Damn, Scully," he said as he tried to catch his breath. "You're in the wrong profession."

She shrugged. "Med school was good for something after all," she said as if she got this compliment everyday. Then she smiled, letting him know that her nonchalance was an act.

"Give me fifteen more minutes and we could do another round."

"I don't know Mulder, it would be hard to top that."

"Don't you want to try?"

Truth was, Scully wasn't sure she was okay. She found her stride and owned the moment. But then the name! Did he say Dana or Diana? Why wouldn't he say 'Scully'? What does it mean if he called out 'Dana'? And so what if he said 'Diana'? It shouldn't matter. She told him she could be anyone he wanted. If he imagined her to be Diana at that moment, then so be it. She should allow the man to continue his fantasies. What more harm can the dead bitch do?

And yet it bothered her. It bothered her that it bothered her. She was doing so well in her post hopeful paradigm. She was able to disregard a kiss on the lips (it was New Year's), a failed attempt at pregnancy (she was desperate), and a shared bed with a dose of spooning (he was distraught that his mother died). This shouldn't be hard to shake off. But there it was nevertheless - a crack in her resolve.

"Hey," he said propping himself on his elbows to eye her curiously. "Have you decided yet?"

"Mulderrr," she whined, "I came like four times! I need at least a year to recover." She said it in jest but she hoped he got the message: _this is not happening again anytime soon_.

"Aw, c'mon Scully. Where's your sense of adventure? You know you want it," he said just beneath her ear where he took a little nibble.

"Ow!" She bopped him playfully on the head with a pillow. She didn't want him to sense any of the anxiety that was slowly creeping in. "Mulder, your time's up. This little lady needs her beauty sleep."

"Alright, alright," he said feigning rejection as he got out of bed and searched for his clothes. He was walking out the door when he paused to take one last look at a naked Scully.

"Yes?" she said, self-consciously meeting his hazel eyes that looked tinged with sadness.

"I never would have thought … you were such a wild thing." He added theatrics to those last two words to blunt his melancholy.

"Well, sir, if you must know, there's a lot about me you do not know."

"Aye to that." He gave her a sweet smile, let out an imperceptible sigh, and turned for the door.

"Good night, Mulder. Be safe."

"Sweet dreams, Scully."

***

_A/N: I felt sad that their first time was just body bumping, despite everyting that they've been through. Wouldn't you be sad too?_


	4. Chapter 4

_Spoilers: Alludes to facts later learned in Season 8.  
_

Chapter 4

At 10:05 on a Thursday morning, Mulder found himself throwing pencils at the ceiling. He had just gotten back from his last case in Martha Stewart's suburbia late last night but didn't want to skip out on a chance to see Scully. Ellen Adderly's comment about significant others got under his skin. He needed to somehow reconnect with his partner and get some assurance that her murderous thoughts of him were said jokingly, although he hasn't really done much lately to warrant her mercy.

They hadn't spoken a word about their dalliance since that fateful Friday he gave her a bogus X-file. He had hinted at it at a previous case involving some kind of Appalachian voodoo just to let her know that he was still sort of thinking about that. But all things considered, it was surprisingly easy to get their grove back. Truly, as if nothing happened. Except the time he acted like a jealous boyfriend when she ran off with the cigarette smoking SOB. He could not help but panic at the thought of losing her. But since then, he had consciously avoided calling her after hours and laid off on the physical contact, just in case she took it differently. He was even a little too eager to get out from the cramped quarters he was sharing with Scully during their latest stake-out. It was all too tempting. One false move and his game could be over.

10:08. She wasn't showing up. He picked up the Rubik's Cube that was lying on his desk and studied it. This was just like their relationship. It's all jumbled up. For all intents and purposes Scully was his significant other. The sum of all their moments and feelings for each other would constitute that. But each moment shared, each feeling returned or otherwise, seemed to be compartmentalized in each of those colored squares. All the components of significant 'othership' were there: deep love, friendship, devotion and respect, sexual attraction, first and last call of the day, a run for parenthood, and now even sex. He just needed to get all the colors lined up. But where should he even begin?

---

"What did you get me?" She said as she answered the door. There were no formalities with them. No "Hi, "hello", "can I come in" exchanges.

"Kleenex with aloe and chicken noodle soup. Hein put in some spring rolls especially for you." He followed her to the kitchen. After spending the whole morning thinking and the whole afternoon playing (he left work early to play a round of hoops with co-eds at GW), Mulder gave Scully a call to tell her he was in the neighborhood. Sounding a little under the weather, he thought some TLC would do her good.

"You were at the Froggy Bottom? What did you get for yourself?"

"A Cajun ribeye and a crab cake dinner." He looked so proud of himself.

"Unfair." She grabbed a fork and stabbed at the crab cake for a bite.

"Hey, you're spreading your germs!"

"Mulder, do you think I care? Look at me. I spent three days glued to a telescope eating nothing but cold yet moldy pizza in an oversized freezer looking at prostitutes do the funky." The woman had a point. Scully was in warm flannel pajamas instead of her usual silk ones, slipper socks, and eye glasses. Her hair was disheveled and, as she wasn't wearing any make-up, he got the full view of her freckles and tissue-beaten nose. She was frumpy by most standards but for him, she looked as pretty as can be.

They had dinner over companionable conversation, almost as if the lightness of the topics was deliberate: the weather forecast predicting temperatures in the high 70's in late March ("Sorry Scully, looks like spring will be here early and you'll need to show up at work"), the crazy guy who likes to bike shirtless, Maggie Scully's new obsession with quilts. Scully had relented to eat on the comfortable couch in front of a silenced TV as long as he didn't wipe his hands on her throw pillows. She was glad she splurged on the couch. Times like these, the support it provided made the price worth it. Her back was killing her.

"Crouched too long holding the telescope, eh Scully?" Scully looked at him with a raised eyebrow and gave him an accusing look as if he personally caused her this affliction. He did bail out on her. "Ok, ok. Here, let me unknot you."

Mulder cracked his knuckles and proceeded to knead the affected areas on her back. She moaned dangerously in approval. He had a talent for using his hands.

"You're being awfully nice tonight, Mulder. Did you wreck the rental? Miss a report?"

"What, this? No, no. This is for just in case you want to kill me again, because I'm pretty darn sure that will happen sooner or later. When that happens, I'd like you to think of the one good thing I did and maybe that will spare my life…or end my agony."

"Aww, Mulder. You're not that bad."

"Really? Ellen Adderly made roast beef on a Tuesday for her cheating husband. I just seem to give you trouble, or illness. Or both. The least I can give you is a backrub." He heard Scully give out a big sigh. _Uh-oh_, he thought.

"I'm bad about showing my appreciation for everything you've done for me," she said softly. The air was beginning to change from playful to solemn.

"Yeah?" he challenged her. "Like what?"

"Like when you didn't pull the plug on me when I was returned…or when you wouldn't give up on finding a cure for my cancer…or when you went to Antarctica to save my ass."

"I just didn't want to be left to do all the paperwork." He was always self-deprecating.

"Or when you agreed to help me... get pregnant, no questions asked. I didn't even thank you for that. So, 'Thank You.'" She patted the hand that was rubbing her left shoulder. "You would have been a great father."

He was glad she had her back to him because at that instant he was overwhelmed by his own suppressed sadness. He wanted to give some witty remark but didn't trust himself to speak. He was as invested in that procedure as she was. He wanted her to be pregnant. He wanted her to have his child. Heck, he didn't need Maxim or FHM at the doctor's office to fill a cup. He didn't even get off on the image of a naked Scully. He jerked off to the thought of Scully pregnant, of smelling the sleeping head of their baby boy (he imagined a baby girl first but his memory of Emily pained him), of them taking their son to his first Yankees-Red Sox game, of camping in the Shenandoah, a Sunday hike at Great Falls, a road trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame, and coming home to hold Scully's hand. He wished his little swimmers off and prayed that his little half-Mulders would make their mommy very happy.

The day Scully found out she wasn't pregnant was also the day he was told that his days were definitely numbered. They both needed a miracle.

Remembering how cruel the world was made Mulder want to wrap himself around her to protect her from it. Instead he drew her closer, smelled her hair and kissed the tip of her ear. He wanted to tell her he was sorry he couldn't deliver, that she should have chosen someone else because his boys were probably dying too, and that his one big regret in life was that he will miss seeing her happy.

Scully turned to see Mulder with his eyes downcast.

"Hey," she said with a sad smile. He couldn't even manage to lift up his head to meet hers. He felt like an utter failure. She cupped his face and very gently kissed his eyes and wiped the tears that finally found its way out. She hugged him tightly and kissed his neck, his cheek and his lips.

That night they made love for the future they couldn't have. It was tentative yet tender, sincere but unsure. Mulder seemed to ask permission for every new caress he took. Scully was giving it all.

After their lovemaking, she didn't ask him to leave. Instead she clung to him with her head on his chest and her arm around his waist. _If that wasn't love making, then what is_? He thought. And then it dawned on him. He was totally unprepared for this. _Now what?_

***

_Froggy Bottom Pub really exists near the Foggy Bottom metro station. It was a longtime sponsor of my ol' softball team. What's next? I'm really not sure so help me out!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"What ever happened to gut feel?" Mulder was trying his best to calm down. The situation was getting out of hand.

"Because I am not Diana," she said with her voice noticeably shaking with controlled rage. "I can't just abandon reason because I happened to fuck you." Mulder tried to ignore the cheap shot that was meant to harm. How could she still be thinking of Diana?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Then prove me wrong. Do the autopsy," he said softly and walked away.

Why does he always seem to get into a pickle just when things should be in the bag? Mulder found himself walking towards the Lincoln Memorial with shoulders hunched. He was flying high at one point. The morning after their lovemaking, Mulder showed up at the office rather late with two lattes in his hand. He told Scully he had to "get organized" and she blushed at the memory of waking him up so he could go home, get dressed and drive to work. Apparently, she too had the same thought and looked at the direction of his desk where a thermal mug was waiting. A morning cup of Joe was a little something that acknowledged what happened without being too 'life-alteringly' sentimental. Minutes later, they stood a little closer during their elevator ride to the briefing room and even brushed hands. Then somehow, somewhere, he crashed.

That Friday morning's case was probably the pebble that caused a collapse in his mojo. Skinner had assembled a team of agents, each with their own specialty, to find leads on a jogger who appeared to have vanished into thin air. The case was intense. They hardly got a wink of sleep. Yet even during those five days of clawing at the walls to find anything that might point to a suspect, Mulder and Scully had found time to share the sheets, so the speak. It wasn't competitive like their first time, or tender like their second. Looking back at it now, Mulder feared that perhaps they had just used each other as a stress release. Could those other times really have been an ordinary fuck to her, as she had so eloquently put it? A bump and grind much like a gym work-out? Mulder was pretty sure he was into it. He thought she was too.

_It could only be the close call during our stake-out, _he mused and tried to recall the events of that night.

On Wednesday, the sixth day, a needed break came. At 5 a.m. the next morning, the agents were staggered around the picnic area of Sligo Creek waiting for the suspect to emerge. Fatigue had started to creep in as he and Scully hunkered down beside a bush. He caught Scully starring at him as he ate his sunflower seeds.

"What?" he had said then, thinking she was going to complain about his littering again. "I'm keeping the shells." But she just smiled.

"That disgusting habit does have some desirable skill outcomes."

It wasn't so much that she said it. It was how she said it and the way she licked her lips lustfully. She knew what she was doing. What else could a man do but try to kiss her?

At that moment of blissful distraction, the suspect emerged within their line of sight. But with their guard down and reflexes slowed, the partners fumbled to catch up and their slack almost cost the life of a fellow agent. Thankfully their indiscretion went unnoticed and the suspect eventually booked.

He hoped she would let that one pass and chalk up the incident to fatigue. But Scully is a consummate professional. On Friday, she reined in her smiles and knowing glances. And for just one day without those, Mulder was at a loss. He needed to draw them out again so he barged in on Scully's first Friday night date with her nine-year old godson. ("Babysitting is for sissies", he told his mom Ellen once.)

"Mulderr," she warned even as she let him in, "didn't I tell you I was going to be with Jason tonight?" She glanced at her bored looking godson with his meatloaf plate and Scully's game board on the coffee table.

"Scrabble, Scully? With a nine-year old boy?" He walked in with his a big paper bag in hand. "Oh, and this is for you." He tossed her a folder and headed towards the TV where he produced a Playstation 2, which widely impressed the kid who knew his videogames. Scully opened the folder and saw it was a report about a mysterious sonic boom over the Tidal Basin at four in the afternoon that day. No one saw where the sound had come from. Naturally, Mulder thought it was a UFO. Scully rolled her eyes and dismissed the file.

That night was actually companionable, even somewhat affectionate. She served him a meal she cooked, sat beside him on the couch and even tried to understand this whole World of Warcraft. He really thought the night was a winner. But alas, Jason's unedited curiosity got the better of them.

"So Mulder," he said (with Scully abruptly shooting back 'that's _Mister_ Mulder to you, kid') "are you Aunt Dana's boyfriend? Mom didn't think she had one."

What was he to say to that? He didn't know where he stood. If the boy had asked two days ago, he would have been a little more confident.

"You should ask her." He looked at her hopefully as she busied herself in the kitchen.

"Aunt Dana?"

"Hmmm? Oh. Ummm. No. We just work together." She gave Jason a tight smile and went back to washing the dishes. Not once did she look Mulder in the eye till the evening ended.

So there it was folks. They just worked together.

In the days that followed, Mulder had tried to spend more time with Scully by appealing to her sense of duty, her boundaries of just working together. On Saturday, he labored on two months worth of expense reports and came by her place to have her double check them. Then he convinced her to give up her Sunday to drive to Lurray Caverns in Virginia to investigate the other sonic boom that was heard the day after the one over DC's Tidal Basin.

He doubled his efforts in avoiding affectionate physical contact with Scully thinking she needed time to prove her professionalism to herself. She seemed a little more stressed and was getting more and more irritable. Why wouldn't she? They spent four nights chasing after nothing. It was frustrating.

He had planned something special for them this weekend, but her animosity towards him today when he asked her to autopsy a woman he suspected of drowning in ectoplasm did not bode well. He promised himself he would lay off if she got any bitchier.

Then his phone rang.

"Mulder, I'm at the morgue. When do you want these results?" She still sounded pissed off, but hey, at least she was now doing the autopsy. That was something.

"As soon as humanly possible?"

"Fine."

His thread of hope for a brief future together hung on that one overused word.

***

_A/N: Sorry for the delay, and the not so great chapter. Potty training my boy, among a host of other things, got in the way. This chapter will hopefully be the crappiest. The next one is the last chapter so please hang in there. It will get better. I just needed to set up the events that led to Scully's and Mulder's behavior during 'all things'._


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you to all of you who read the story, got alerts, listed it as a favorite, and especially those who left reviews! I love writing for you. It's been a very encouraging experience, especially from one who has never written any real fiction. It's tough to complete a story! But here you go. I hope you have enjoyed it._

**Final Chapter.**

Dana Scully wakes up to the sound of the fish tank and relishes its pleasant familiar sound. How many times has she passed out on his couch and woken up with a blanket and a fluffy pillow from his bed? All those previous times she had taken for granted this little gesture of affection because she was too rushed or too afraid to feel. Tonight she takes a slow deep breath to experience her senses at full force. She feels like a woman loved.

The past two days had been strangely liberating. When she chanced upon Daniel at the hospital, she left his side thinking it was a sign that her life had to move on beyond Mulder. It didn't help that Mulder was ordering her around like his page while she learned that Daniel had given up his life to follow her in D.C.

It was easy for her to recapture the intensity of her feelings for Daniel when she held his hand. He was still as intelligent, dignified, gorgeous, and generous with his feelings. When she was young and impressionable, she was shocked to find herself falling in love with a married man. Thinking she needed a good way to meet nice single men her age, Dana took Argentinean Tango classes. She wasn't much of a dancer but she had been told it was like walking. She could do that, she thought.

First thing she learned at Tango class was to never break contact with her partner. Doing that leads to breaking the second, but most important rule: follow the lead (a.k.a. the man). He goes forward, she goes back. He leads sideways, she goes sideways, and so on. She had gotten quite comfortable with the Tango, perfecting the walk with three inch heels that later came in handy when she worked at the FBI and had to run in pumps. The distraction of the dance however, did not save her from the powerful hold of Daniel. She needed to do something more drastic.

So she went to the FBI only to fall into the arms of yet another man who led her around like a puppy dog. That was what infuriated her about her relationship with Mulder. He orders her around and she finds herself too willing to follow, in spite of herself. When she tries to break away, he throws her a bone, slyly keeping her in his orbit. And because she knows deep down he loved her, she held on despite him being a man obsessed with his quest for the Truth. But the sad truth, she later realized, was that he needs her beside him in the basement, not the bedroom. They had foolishly been playing with fire and almost got burned. Any hint of impropriety would be enough ammunition for their enemies to shut them down. She didn't want to do that to him.

When she saw him again, Scully felt perhaps she could regain a semblance of a personal life with Daniel while she fought aliens alongside this man she had grown to love passionately. Her love for Daniel will return, she thought. But after her talk with Maggie, it didn't feel right. When she saw him that one last time, Scully confirmed it. She had changed. Mulder had zealously chiseled away her hardened Vulcan-like façade and made her a person who can stare down a brain-eating mutant and still appreciate the complexity of humanity and the beauty in life. She likes that about herself.

Through sleepy eyes, Scully slowly realizes that while he may have been leading her, he made her shine.

Suddenly, she does not care if she comes first, second or last on his list. The fact is he loves her. And she loves him. It didn't matter what the FBI did to their partnership. What mattered was what they do to theirs.

Scully ponders a moment on the past week and briefly regrets her foul behavior. She dislikes being ordered around, and yet got cranky thinking it was always she initiating the intimacy. She silently curses the irony. Scully may be a modern woman, but she still has an old-fashioned romantic streak in her. _Is a night out with good food too much to ask?_ She sighs and gets up from his couch to make her way to the shower where he is softly humming an Elvis tune.

"Hey," she says from the door of the bathroom.

"Hey. Hope I didn't wake you," he replies as he shuts it off and ties a towel around his waist.

"No, you didn't." She pauses awhile, lazily watching him take another towel to dry his hair. Then she speaks so quietly, ashamed she is even bringing it up. "Why haven't you asked me out?"

"Excuse me?" He looks at her with curious eyes.

"Why haven't you asked me out?" Her courage is returning and she boldly adds, "Like on a date."

He looks at her quizzically. "I, uh- I just did." He says this as if she should have known.

"When?!" She is incredulous. She hopes it isn't one of those times he just randomly showed up at her apartment. Wouldn't that be anti-climactic?

"Last Saturday. I had the mood music going, the tickets to England that I paid for myself, a reservation at the –"

"Last Saturday? Your presentation on crop circles was you asking me out?" _Either this man is totally clueless, or I am, _she thinks.

"I thought it would be good to get us out of the city. Besides, we just work together, remember?" He air quotes 'work together' to let her know it was her terminology. "I had to work around that."

Then realization dawns on her. He may have been leading her all this time but it was she who chose the music, which set the tone and tempo of this dance. How could she have been so obtuse? Scully looks at him with her sad, blue eyes and almost whispers, "You know I love you, right?"

Mulder contemplates on the rhetorical question and gives out a big sigh. "If this is the 'I love you but I'm not in love with you' talk, I should really get dressed." He walks towards her to get out of the suddenly stifling bathroom. But she stops him with a hand on his chest. And very carefully tiptoes to plant a sweet lingering kiss on his lips.

"There's no need for that."

***

_Fin!_


End file.
